


A Little Bit Every Day

by jane_ways



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, The Main Three Mentioned in Passing, Vague Mr. Darcy Vibes???, Valerius Is Actually Kind of Nice When He's Not Under Demonic Posession, gender neutral reader, no y/n
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 00:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_ways/pseuds/jane_ways
Summary: After defeating the Devil, you find yourself adrift in Vesuvia, searching for your purpose. Clarity comes from the unlikeliest of places.Reader is written as gender-neutral.





	A Little Bit Every Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Midnight_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Queen/gifts).

You woke to sunlight streaming through the windows. Outside, birds sang, and you could hear the quiet hum of palace activity in the halls outside your bedroom door. If you had asked for an objectively perfect morning, this would have been it. Things had returned to normal after your battle with Lucio and the Devil so quickly, so seamlessly, it was almost hard to believe the events of the past few months had really transpired. Stretching, you felt the pull of sore muscles and the crack of bones: physical evidence that your adventures really were more than just a night’s bad dream.

Your aching bones, and the overwhelming, all-encompassing ennui you felt. The adventure was over: the Devil was defeated, the city was saved, and everyone went their separate ways. Julian had left on his sailing voyage, Asra was traipsing about the country somewhere, and Nadia was full tilt at the helm of Vesuvia. They had all asked you to join them, of course, but none of it had felt quite right. You hadn’t felt quite right. The others seemed so sure of their purpose, their next step—so ready to move on from this dark and trying episode. Life moved on. But not for you.

Mentally, you began to review your day, and the empty hours stretched out before you. You sighed and sat up. No use laying around in bed and wallowing in your own boredom. You used to covet days like this when you were working in the shop—days where you were bound to no schedule or duty but your own whim. You used to wander Vesuvia until nightfall on days with fair weather, window shopping and exploring and enjoying the thrum of the city. Maybe, you thought, that was what you needed now.

Quickly washing your face and teeth, you threw on clothes and set out. It was still early, and the city glowed gold under the morning sun. This had always been your favorite time of day: that early morning calm, before the world was fully awake. Even in a city like Vesuvia there was a certain stillness, a peace, at this time of day. Soon the city would wake, and the streets would flood with people, but for now, the boulevards of the Heart District near the palace were calm.

Aimlessly, you wandered, heading in a vague sense for the floating market, where you supposed you might take some breakfast. You weren’t as familiar with this part of the city, having usually opted to visit the market district nearer your shop. Asra’s shop. (Was it really yours anymore? Had it ever been?) You had considered, briefly, heading that way, but it hadn’t felt right. There was a lingering sense of—what? Distance, alienation, feeling the world pass you by. It would have been too strange and painful, you thought, to walk those streets, so familiar and yet not. You needed time and space before revisiting that part of your life. Time to mourn, you supposed, the loss of who you were. Who you thought you had been.

As you walked further and further, the streets began to bustle as people awoke and headed for work, or stepped out to the market for food and supplies. By the time you reached the floating market proper, it was the beginning of the breakfast rush, and the stretch of cobblestone where visitors could stand to observe the passing fare and signal a merchant was quickly becoming overcrowded. Your stomach had, by now, begun to contract unpleasantly from lack of food and hydration, so, as gently as you could, you attempted to shoulder your way to the front of the crowd.

Your shoe caught the uneven edge of a stone, and you tripped, stumbling forward into the person in front of you. Swiftly, they caught you by the waist, and you instinctively grasped at their shoulder to haul yourself up. The arm that held you was covered in a fine sleeve of silver silk, which led to a cowl of rich black velvet and—_oh fuck_, you realized, _it’s Consul Valerius_.

Valerius pulled you gently upwards into a standing position. He looked as shocked as you felt. And as embarrassed. _Fuck fuck fuck what the fuck do I say? _Your mind whirred as you reeled a bit unsteadily on your feet, flustered both by the fall and by Valerius’s intrusion into your general existence (and your personal space). Valerius noticed the slight tremor in your legs, and tightened his grip on you, which was when you realized that not only was he still holding you, you were also still holding him.

“Are, ah, are you alright?” he asked. The expression on his face appeared, surprisingly, to be one of genuine concern, rather than (as you might have expected) annoyance or disgust.

“Yes, um, thank you, I’m so sorry.” You were as astonished at his apparent genuine human emotion as you had been a moment before at his gallant behavior. “Um…” you trailed off, not sure what to say, Valerius’s arms still strong around your waist. It felt almost protective.

Realizing he still held you, Valerius quickly pulled away, with…was that a blush? You took a deep breath. Valerius was perhaps not your favorite person in the palace, but, to be fair, for most of the time you had known him, he had been under demonic possession. And he had helped you in the Hierophant’s realm. You had never properly thanked him for that, and now seemed like an opportune time.

“Consul Valerius, listen,” you began, but he cut you off.

“No, please, allow me to apologize—sincerely apologize—for my behavior over the past few months,” he interjected. He looked downward sheepishly. “My conduct was absolutely inexcusable.”

A wave of sympathy overcame you. “You weren’t in your right mind, Consul.” Gently, you reached out to him and patted his shoulder in what you hoped was a soothing manner.

Hurriedly, he replied, “Please, call me Valerius. And yes, I was…somewhat compromised, but that is no excuse.” He paused, considering his words. “I am a reserved man by nature, and the public nature of my role at court can be taxing on me. It was particularly so during the Countess’ absence. I am afraid you bore the brunt of that frustration. I am very ashamed of my behavior. Forgive me,” he added quietly.

The earnestness of his words, and the sincerity with which he spoke them, rendered you speechless for a moment. (“Quite a feat,” you could imagine Asra saying with a wink.) Gathering your wits, you replied slowly, “I am very grateful for your apology, Cons—Valerius, and for your aid. You were a great help to us.”

“It was the least I could do.” His reply carried the same earnestness. You both paused then, a little awkwardly, not exactly sure what to do or say next. You briefly considered making your exit, but the thought flitted from your mind almost as soon as it occurred to you. For one thing, you still hadn’t eaten anything, but even more than your hunger was your reticence to part ways with Valerius. _Absurd!_ Even a few weeks ago, you could barely stand each other; never, when you met this man, could you have imagined willingly staying in his company, let alone enjoying it. But here you were.

“So,” you ventured cautiously, “anything here you’d recommend?”

Valerius smiled, relieved for a direction to take the conversation—and, no doubt, for the opportunity to display his superior culinary taste. A glint shone in his eye. “Do you trust me?” Without waiting for your response, he gently took your elbow and shouldered his way through the crowd.

Momentarily taken aback, you allowed yourself to be steered to the front, towards a vendor selling bagels. Calling and motioning towards the two of you, Valerius attracted her attention, and held up two fingers. Nodding, the vendor busied herself preparing what you guessed was Valerius’s regular order. He turned to you and began to say something, but caught himself. A blush began to color his cheeks, the rosy tint blossoming over the sharp bones. (_When did you start noticing Valerius’s cheekbones?_ asked a voice in the back of your mind.) “I hope you don’t mind me ordering for you,” he said sheepishly. “I suppose I ought to have asked.”

“Well, I did ask for your suggestion, so I suppose this must come recommended pretty highly if you’re eating it, too,” you answered with a laugh. Relief washed over Valerius’s face. You hardly visited this market, and you weren’t generally too picky of an eater. Besides, it was Valerius, after all. Say what you would about the man, but he had impeccable taste. “What’s your order?”

He smiled. “A salt bagel with lox and plain schmear. It might seem simple, but I find the relative plainness of the bread and the simple creaminess of the spread highlights the smoky undertones—”

You were spared a lengthy discussion of Valerius’s complex palate by the food vendor, who handed your food, wrapped in cheesecloth, to the consul. Fishing out the appropriate coins from his small purse, he thanked her, and turned to hand your food to you. As you reached for your own coin purse, he waved his hand. “Please,” he said, “allow me. Consider it a small repayment for your patience with my…earlier behavior.”

Generosity? From Valerius, of all people? Curiouser and curiouser_. He must be genuine about reforming his ways_. An emotional makeover, as Portia might put it. You grinned. “I will always gladly accept free food,” you said. Motioning you through the crowds once more, Valerius guided you towards a large alabaster pillar away from the throng of people, the base of which doubled as public seating. Primly, he swept his robes out from under him as he sat, tucking his long legs elegantly off the side. Typical, you thought. Only Valerius could manage to make sitting on public property look chic. Intensely aware of yourself, you sat beside him, your thighs almost brushing his own. Heat rose to your face: first at the closeness of your bodies, and then for even noticing the closeness of your bodies. This was Valerius, for goodness’ sake.

_All right_, you told yourself, _this is absurd; eat your food, already_. Biting into the bagel like a sandwich, you instantly understood why Valerius came all the way to the floating market so early in the morning. It really was phenomenal—crisp, plush bread where so often the texture was dense and heavy; silken-smooth salmon where so often it was over-smoked and flaky. You each ate silently, alone with your thoughts, and you wondered if you should say something. It wasn’t that the silence was awkward—in fact, it was almost pleasant. Comfortable. You were wondering if you should say something, you realized, because you wanted to talk to him.

Blessedly, Valerius broke the silence first, sparing you the agony of trying to find something to say without making a total fool of yourself. “So,” he began, “what business draws you out of the palace?”

“I was wondering the same thing about you,” you countered. Good deflection. It would buy you time to gather your feelings into socially-acceptable words for the company of a person you barely knew.

He blushed slightly, and looked down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. “Well,” he started, searching for words, “my duties at the palace have been somewhat…lighter since the Countess has been able to return more fully to her work. As you know, the Countess’ headaches could be quite debilitating. She often required many hours of rest, and—considering the capabilities, or rather, lack thereof, possessed by the other courtiers—I was responsible for some measure of the running of Vesuvia. But now, with her health recovered, the Countess is both able and eager to take on many duties that formerly fell to me, and I find myself somewhat…freer than I was previously. In more ways than one,” he added with a grim smile. “I realized that, for all the time I spent governing Vesuvia, I no longer knew it. It seemed worthwhile to once again make myself familiar with the city.”

_That has to be the most words Valerius has ever spoken to me at once_, you thought, and once recovered from this initial shock, you also realized that Valerius was being remarkably vulnerable in this admission. It didn’t take magic to sense the meaning behind his words: he was every bit as lost and lonely as you were.

“I feel the same way,” you said, forcing a smile. “I’ve enjoyed having some time to myself.”

“What about your friends?” he asked. “Why not accompany Julian, or govern alongside Nadia? Surely Asra would be glad to have you back with him in the shop?”

You laughed, but there was an edge to your voice. “Sure, when Asra’s actually in the shop.” It occurred to you that Valerius didn’t have any friends who asked him to go on adventures, or to come stay with them. Nadia was, quite rightly, eager to regain more control of her own government, but even if Valerius hadn’t done a stellar job in her stead, the feeling of exclusion must have hurt him. “I decided I wanted some time on my own,” you continued after some deliberation.

Valerius gazed at you intently. “That is understandable.” You broke your gaze and looked at your hands. Returning to your food, you finished the last of your bagel, chewing thoughtfully. Valerius did the same, but you could that both your and his attention was elsewhere. You sensed a pregnant pause; even though you knew abstractly the lull in conversation couldn’t have been more than a moment or two, the empty air between you seemed full. _Potential abounds; the magician must merely harness it._ Asra had taught you that.

You took a deep breath, and, still staring at your hands, you asked, “Where are you visiting today?”

Valerius turned to you. “In all honesty, I did not have much of a plan. Would you…” he trailed off, and your heart skipped a beat. “Would you care to accompany me?”

You met his gaze and smiled.

*

The two of you wandered across the city, no destination in mind. Passing through Goldgrave first, then the Center City, you took your time exploring. Valerius often paused to appreciate Vesuvia’s architectural features, or to relate what he called “relevant background details” (and what you jokingly called “gossip”) about various past and ongoing city improvements. He told you what restaurants and vendors sold the best products and which ones jacked up their prices—and which ones were worth it anyway. He listened in wonder as you described your adventures as Asra’s apprentice, and, later, as Nadia’s consultant. Even the simplest magic seemed to impress and (dare you say) delight him. (The trick for keeping the drinks you purchased cold even as you sat and chatted on the café patio in the warm afternoon sun seemed to especially enchant.) Underneath his sharp exterior you found a man both witty and intelligent, in possession of excellent taste—and desperate for company around whom he could simply be himself. It was a shame, you thought, that his time at the court had turned him hard and bitter. Under different circumstances—and had he learned to cultivate patience, a little empathy, and a good poker face—he might have made an effective politician. He might never have enjoyed it, you supposed, preferring as he did his estate and his vineyards, but he might have been better at it.

He might still be better at it.

Without you having realized it, evening had rolled in. Quite uninvited, too, seeing as you were, despite all expectations, actually having a very good time. The two of you had meandered in something of a circle, leaving you about back where you started that morning. _If this were one of those romance novels Julian likes so much, there would probably be something in here about “how it seemed like years had passed since then,” or maybe only minutes, or maybe both at once—months and moments all tangled in on one another_, you thought_. But it’s not._ _Valerius isn’t going to take me in his arms and sweep me off my feet into a life of passion and romance. We’re going to say goodnight here, and I’m going to go to my room in the palace, and he’s going to go back to his estate, and we’ll probably never even see each other again._

Valerius’s voice broke the solitude of your thoughts. “If I may be so bold, may I escort you back to the palace? I will be staying in my rooms there tonight; the sun is rather too low for me to return to my estate. Perhaps I might interest you in a visit there tomorrow?”

_Well, in my defense, I’ve never been that good at reading the future._

*

Valerius called for you at an hour that was, in your opinion, altogether ungodly. Apparently this was a man who woke up with the sun by personal preference instead of by accident. But whatever displeasure you had at being woken up so early was quickly assuaged not only by the prospect of a fine day in the country but by Valerius flushed and stuttering at the sight of you answering the door in your nightclothes. It was cute, sort of. “Is my bedhead so bad it renders you speechless, Valerius?” you teased.

Valerius’s blush deepened, if that was even possible, turning a delightful shade of red. (He would have called it “blood orange,” you supposed.) He sputtered, “No—I hadn’t even noticed—that is—I’m terribly sorry to have awoken you.” He regained some of his composure. “I should have specified a time for us to depart; that was an oversight on my part. Please, forgive me.”

Two apologies in as many days from Consul Valerius? The world really had become a different place.

*

The sun was hot on your face as the carriage rounded a copse of well-trimmed trees at the edge of the estate. You could see now why Valerius had wanted to set out so early: the property was well outside the forest, nestled into the rolling hills of golden meadow beyond the city. You preferred the forest, dark and deep and full of secrets, or the seaside, balmy and breezy. And both considerably cooler at this moment, you thought, than the open countryside. But it was beautiful, in its own way, once you knew how to appreciate it. _A little like Valerius_, it occurred to you, and to your own surprise, you did not banish the thought.

As the carriage wound through fields of young grapes, you squinted your eyes through the sun to get a better look at the main house. It was a massive structure, clearly meant to impress, and it did: large and imposing, the limestone house bore large wings on either side of a colonnade. Three stories tall, it was situated behind a large oblong pond, long and wide enough to reflect the whole expanse of the house.

Your face must have betrayed your awe, because Valerius turned to you and spoke. “My family built this house generations ago. The vineyards are almost as old. We produce several varietals, along with botanical liquors from the gardens,” he said proudly. After a pause, in a slightly softer voice, he asked, “Do you like it?”

“I…I’m still comprehending it,” you answered with a laugh.

“It is rather large, isn’t it? At one point, most of the extended family lived here, all of us together. I remember it that way from childhood—my grandparents, aunts and uncles.” He sighed, and an edge of distance crept into his voice. “But they are gone now, and I was left the only heir, and so now it sits quite empty. It seems absurd, I think sometimes, to keep a house this large for just myself, but I can’t bear to let go of it.” You wished you could say that you understood. But you didn’t. You didn’t have a family, or a history. You wished, and you wished a little longer. The rest of the carriage ride passed in silence.

Eventually, the carriage arrived in front of the colonnade, and a parade of liveried servants poured out of the house to greet Valerius. Taking you down the line, he introduced as his “honored guest” to his steward, his chamberlain, his comptroller and secretary, his veneur and falconer, his pantler and butler, his cooks, his maids, his valets du chambre and grooms and pages—so many people were necessary for the running of an estate this large it made your head spin, and yet Valerius knew them all by name. Bowing and curtsying, they smiled at him with what appeared to be genuine affection and admiration. Walking through the colonnade to the house proper, you were greeted by twin statues, a ram and a ewe, one on either side of the entry. Your footsteps echoed through the frescoed halls as Valerius escorted you through the various galleries, libraries, and studies that made up the public parts of the house. And, of course, the wine cellars, which were a point of personal pride.

You had finished the tour of the house when Valerius suggested a tour of the vineyards. “It’s pleasant weather, if a bit sunny, and the walk is very agreeable.” You knew the vineyards were his pride and joy, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “Am I allowed to sneak some grapes?” you asked with a laugh.

“Only if you sneak enough for me,” he replied with a small smile. Imagine—joking with the Consul, of all people. If you had been told a few months ago you’d be laughing with Valerius at his country estate, you would have thought it madness. But here you were. Taking you by the hand, he guided you outside in the direction of the gardens. His skin, you noticed, was smooth, and you found yourself running the tips of your fingers gently across the side of his palm. Embarrassed, you stilled your hand, but Valerius only grasped your hand tighter, and you felt heat rise to your face. Threading your fingers between his, he led you to the fields, the leaves on the vines glittering like emeralds in the sun.

*

As twilight drew itself like a shroud around the sky, storm clouds began to roll in over the rolling hills. You watched them from the large picture window in the dining room. One of the dining rooms, anyways. The two of you were eating in a small room that Valerius explained was used only for family, rather than large parties of guests. (For some reason, this knowledge pleased you.) Valerius had suggested, given the length of the journey back, that the two of you stay overnight. “It’s not as though we don’t have any rooms available,” he had added with a sly smile. So here you sat, in Valerius’s home, at his table, eating his food. Very good food, too. _I could get used to this_, you thought to yourself, and it startled you. Could you?

The meal passed mostly in amicable silence, and after you had finished what felt like your millionth course, you moved to the window, staring out at the fields below. “The storm is really coming in now,” you remarked, gesturing to the gray-violet sky.

“Yes,” Valerius answered, “I expect the rain will be heavy. It’s been humid for so long now, surely the clouds must want to burst. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have some thunder to go along with it.”

“I love a good storm. Why don’t we watch?” So the two of you settled in on a sofa that angled to face the window, and against the sound of the rain pattering on the window, broken now and again by a burst of thunder, you drank, and you talked. About your life as an apprentice; about Valerius’s childhood on the estate. He had been happy here. You wondered if you had been happy, wherever you were, and the thought occurred to you that _what does it matter, if you’re happy now?_ You found yourself lost in your own thoughts, until the distant sound of Valerius’s voice pulled your mind back from itself. “What will you do, now?” he was asking you, and with a start, you burst out—

“I have absolutely no idea!” The sound of your own voice startled you. Had you really just said that out loud? Your words had loosened something inside you: a wall, a dam built over your emotions, and suddenly you felt them all bursting forth, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “Before all this, I had a purpose—I had an identity. Even if I was just an apprentice. And then overnight, literally overnight, my whole world was turned upside-down, but that was all right, because still—I had a purpose. And when you’re fighting the forces of evil with the balance of the world hanging by a thread, you don’t have much time to pause and think about things like this, I suppose. And then just as suddenly, everything was over, and I felt…untethered. How can you pick up the threads of an old life, once they’ve come unwoven?” You caught your breath, your mind finally catching up with itself. You could feel the embarrassment begin to settle as the reality of your words began to sink in. “I’m sorry,” you added with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know why I said all that to you. I haven’t told anyone else how I’ve felt, and—”

“—And somehow saying it out loud made it more real,” Valerius finished, “as if by keeping it all locked up, you could somehow keep it from being true.”

“Yes,” you admitted quietly.

“Did you not desire to go with Asra, or Julian?” he asked, repeating his question from yesterday.

“No,” you continued, “I didn’t want to keep…being someone’s companion. Their apprentice. I needed to find out who I was when I didn’t have to mold myself around someone else. I wanted to be my own person; live my own life.”

“And are you?” His voice was so low you could barely hear it above the rain.

“It’s difficult,” you replied at length. “It would have been easy to go off with Julian, or Asra, or to stay with Nadia. At least when I was Asra’s apprentice, I knew who I was.”

He smiled faintly. “There is an old saying my mother used to repeat. I never put much stock in it, until I had to learn the hard way she was right. ‘In the earth, there is all kinds of treasure—gold and diamonds. But if you do not know what to look for, or where to look, all you will find is rocks and dirt. A teacher is the geologist of the soul: they can show you where to dig, and what to dig for. But the digging you must do yourself.’” Valerius paused, as if for effect, and then smiled again. “The digging, I found, was much harder than expected. It still is. But I must trust it will be worth the effort.”

You regarded him, not saying anything, just watching his face, holding his gaze. “What will you do, now?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue,” he said, and as he spoke, he broke into a smile, so wide it made your heart ache.

“What a pair we make,” you remarked quietly.

“What a pair indeed.”

*

It wasn’t the sunlight that woke you up. In the groggy haze of first waking, you tried to place it, searching mentally for a moment, and then there it was—the stirring of the body next to you. (It had been like that with Asra, too, the break in the steady rise and fall of his breathing always waking you up along with him. With a quick, sharp pain, you realized you would never wake with him again.) The knowledge that the limbs tangled around you belonged to Valerius dawned on you slowly, but not unpleasantly. You should have felt embarrassed, it occurred to you, at having fallen asleep on a sofa at all, let alone in the arms of the insufferable Consul Valerius. At the very least it should have seemed uncomfortable. But the sensation of his arms around you, surprisingly toned and strong, was anything but.

“Good morning,” you murmured, shifting in his arms. He stilled, but you only laughed, and pressed yourself against him affectionately. “It seems we had a bit too much wine last night.”

A long pause, and then, “So it would seem,” which might have sounded more awkward, had the sound not been muffled by Valerius saying it into your hair.

“It’s still light out,” you whispered. It was true; the dawn had only just broken across the fields. “Let’s go back to sleep.” Valerius kept still for a moment, and then, in drowsiness, and longing, he relaxed, pulling you closer to him. He nestled his head beneath yours, and almost imperceptibly, he kissed your hair.

_So this is what it’s like,_ you thought. _No kissing under a starlit sky. No fireworks, no grand gestures. Just the simple comfort of being known._

You could live with that.

With a smile, you sighed, and closed your eyes again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title supplied by the Hozier fanfic title generator: http://www.generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=22501  
Valerius’s quote shamelessly borrowed from Matisyahu’s “Searchin:" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3I3Xy9Z6tc8  
Egg bagels are the best bagels, don’t @ me


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